


Beginnings

by moonlightdancer



Series: Happy 30th birthday, Good Omens! [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley rambling, M/M, POV Crowley, Some History, written for the GO30Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightdancer/pseuds/moonlightdancer
Summary: Crowley muses on what beginnings mean for him
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Happy 30th birthday, Good Omens! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741498
Kudos: 6
Collections: GO 30 Challenge





	Beginnings

* * *

There were many kinds of beginnings, Crowley mused some 6000 years after the first beginning, the beginning of everything. And being immortal he had seen them all. Most beginnings were rather mundane. Except for those that were not.

There was the beginning of Him – not the celestial him he could barely remember, but the new him, who crawled out of the sulphur pit after the Fall with raven-black wings, shaking with agony and rage and grief for what had been taken from him. For the love that had been taken, wrested and burnt out of his soul, leaving a gaping hole.

After that there had been a seemingly interminable time in Hell, which was, well, hell. Dank, dark, foul, crowded, full of torture and otherwise just bloody boring. No interesting conversations in hell.

Then there was the beginning of something Crowley couldn't even express properly.

If he had to put a name to it, he would have called it _Light_. A light growing in the dark ragged hole that had been torn when he fell from grace, slowly filling the emptiness inside of him. The tiny spark that had started when, mostly out of boredom and his never-ending curiosity for things he wasn't supposed to know or do, he'd slithered up the wall of Eden and started a conversation with an angel.

An angel, who had not only actually answered but smiled at him and talked to him as if he was worth talking to.

An angel, who was not only radiant, but gentle and kind-hearted and _different_.

Crowley had known how special this angel was from the moment the angel had told him about his sword. He had seemed ashamed to admit having given it away at first, but had then stoutly defended his act of kindness, even though he wasn't sure it was the _right thing_.

Aziraphale. To Crowley even the name felt like the warming glow from a fire on a cold winter's night.

The tiny light in Crowley's chest grew when the angel sheltered him from the first storm without hesitation - as if it was normal for an angel to shelter a demon. And each time he met the angel, the light grew a little brighter.

6000 years later, the hole in Crowley's chest was filled to the brim with Aziraphale's light, burning as brightly as one of the stars Crowley had once helped create.

Another beginning started out as an ending. The ending of humanity's unity.

Aziraphale had sought him out after the mess with the Tower at Babylon, insisting that Crowley not use this new concept of different languages for any kind of mischief, seeing as how the humans were struggling with the situation as it was, the poor things. Instead of threatening Crowley with smiting, he had asked him very politely not to make the situation worse and when Crowley had not not-agreed and eloquently said “ _ngk”_ , they had ended up in a tavern, drinking amounts of alcohol their corporeal forms should not have been able to tolerate, swapping stories about how they had spent their time after the Flood trying to help the humans in their different ways.

It was only to Aziraphale Crowley could admit to caring about the humans. It was liberating and the way Aziraphale would smile at him whenever he told him about something – well, not _nice_ , he was a demon and _nice_ not in the vocabulary - but reasonably not-so-evil he had done... That smile made Crowley's heart skip a beat and all he could think of was how he wanted to make the angel smile again.

It wasn't until a few years later, that Crowley realised that that moment in a gloomy tavern in Babylon had been the beginning of a feeling he had never thought a demon would be able to feel again.

There were many more beginnings - and an end - that had meaning for Crowley.

The beginning of Enjoyment.

The beginning of Friendship.

The beginning of Feeling At Home.

The end of Loneliness.

They all involved Aziraphale.

_Aziraphale_. The stubborn angel that had got himself discorporated and then found a way back to him – kind of. The angel willing to stand by his side to save the World. His Angel. The only angel worth knowing.

Crowley felt a small smile flit across his face and grabbed the keys to the Bentley. Tadfield Airbase. Right. Time to save the world with his Angel and make a new Beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Just now found out about the challenge and though I know I'm late, I hope you'll enjoy it anyway...


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